


Who Cares

by JaeNunyah



Category: The Who
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-23 10:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaeNunyah/pseuds/JaeNunyah
Summary: Our Fine Fellows look after each other in times of trouble and pain. Serving "hurt/comfort" scenes with a naughty Nunyah twist...
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Naughty Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moonie's medicinal ministrations make Monkey moan...

Pensively pacing, peevishly perturbed, Pete pontificates "Where the FUCK is Roger? We need him here NOW, and I wouldn't have a clue where to START looking even if I WERE inclined to go a-hunting." Frustrated fiddling with the zipper fronting white boiler-suit repeatedly rakes single stage-garment open nearly to the navel then tugs tab back up to the throat, flashing flesh of chest while stomping around the room and occasionally kicking out to scuff baseboards with battered black Doc Martens, he snarls "I SWEAR..."

"You sure DO!" Keith giggles, switching to mock gravitas. "A lot. Maybe that's why Monkey ran away. Emotional abuse, it is, the way you cuss us all the time."

Pete starts to retort, but John beats him to it. "Oh, shut up, Mister Moon. Stop stirring shit. Roger wouldn't bail on us." He can tell Pete's working himself into a viciously vengeful state, and hopes to defuse with legitimate concern. "He might be in trouble."

"If he's not, he WILL be." Pete's foreboding foreshadow heralds heavy hullaballoo outside dressing-room door, upon which an authoritative banging frighteningly falls.

Imagining how that must've sounded from within, Roger calls out "It's me!" before scolding Security staff upon whom he's been leaning. "Don't knock like THAT, mate. Sounds all police-like. You'll make them piss their pants then flush their stash."

"Where the HELL have you..." Pete's acrimonious accusation swiftly shifts to shock, beholding bloody curls and tattered jeans. "Jesus CHRIST, Roger! Who did this to you?"

Hobbling laboriously toward the closest chair then collapsing gracelessly upon it, Roger groans with a roll of his eyes "Nobody wants to hurt ME. I know how it must LOOK, but relax, okay? I didn't get rolled...or raped."

"Show's over." Pete snaps at gawking guards, but before he can slam the door on them Roger arrests aggressive gesture.

"Wait! Show IS over, though, and we need them to trot down and say so. There's no WAY I could go on..." gingerly touching his head, he ruefully ruminates "...like this. Don't sweat the scalp wound, it's just a scratch, even if it DID bleed a lot. Whole left leg feels busted, though. Pretty sure nothing's broken, but knee's knackered and ankle's twisted. Can't swagger or strut, and not sure I could sing very well. Hurts like a mad bastard."

"You're LOOKING at a mad bastard." John growls, glowering "What the FUCK did you do to yourself right before showtime? So help me, if you wrecked that rattle-trap motorbike I TOLD you not to operate on the road yet..." he trails off, unable to voice any specific threat with strangers looking on, as Roger's sheepish expression clearly conveys that's exactly what went down.

Pete sees it, too, and is far less circumspect in his scathing tirade. "You stupid TWAT! Not only could you have KILLED yourself, you might have been ARRESTED."

"Hey, at least you cared about my LIFE first. Unlike YOU, I don't drive drunk. For your information, it was the cops who gave me a ride here, so I'm not in any goddamned trouble..." Roger sneers "...MOTHER. Look, I'll reimburse for this show out of MY pocket, since it's my fault we have to cancel, all right?"

"No, it's NOT all right. Fuck the money, I won't ruin all those lovely customers' prospects of an evening's entertainment just because YOU took off your training wheels too soon. We'll go on without you...tonight and maybe forevermore." Pete has said these next words before, and is sure this won't be the last time he utters them. "I WROTE the bloody songs, so I don't need you to fucking sing them. What I NEED you to do is shake your moneymaker like the good little topless go-go dancer you ARE! If you can't manage the only thing you're GOOD at, then you can drop dead for all I care."

"No way, Pete." John is none too pleased about unexpected upset, but he's not standing for obscene outrage. "If Roger gets out of working, I'm not going on, either. Fuckin' LET him pay out for the cancellation. He likes money more than the rest of us do, so maybe it'll hit him where he lives...teach him a lesson, like." He shakes heavy head with sorrowful sigh, although slyly subversive smile suddenly shows. "Besides, I blew off an invite to a REALLY hot party because of this show, and if we ain't gonna work, I'm gonna go PLAY."

"Where?" Pete rapidly raps "With WHO?"

John joshes "Jealous?" before nodding at curious venue security still lingering in the doorway. "I don't like to drop names in front of unfamiliar faces."

With an exasperated huff, Pete desultorily declares "Fine. Fuck it. Tell all the eager beavers they can have their money back, but be sure to tell them WHY. Roger rolled his ride and John would rather go get his dick sucked." He finally gets to slam the door, and takes great pleasure in doing so.

"You can come, too..." John generously offers, slightly smirking at Pete's costume "...if you put on some proper clothes, first."

"Wouldn't want anybody assuming you're there to mend the electricity." Keith cheerfully chortles, asking as he sidles affectionately against John's side. "Where are we going?"

"Not you." Ox abruptly admonishes, stepping backward out of daffy drummer's reach. "It's the sort of party which made it a point to tell me they aren't equipped to cope with Keith Fuckin' Moon."

Pouting and thwarted, Keith deviously deploys sympathetic shift. Falling to his knees before Roger's slumped sprawl, he turns up wide, beseeching brown eyes to entreat both John and Pete. "How can you two be so CRUEL? Our beloved brother staggers in here HURTING, and you're just gonna go out and PARTY? He's BLEEDING..." demonstrative reach up toward Roger's hair is swatted away, so Keith drops both hands to tenderly trace shredded denim of his trousers instead "...and in PAIN. We should be taking care of him, not yelling at him."

"Nurse Keefy." Pete leers before bending to unlace his boots, tossing dismissively over his shoulder. "You kids can play doctor all night while John and I go enjoy some ADULT fun."

*****

"All comfy now, Roggie?"

"I will be, once those pills you gave me kick in." Roger can't quite believe how sweetly solicitous Keith has been, and is touched with genuine gratitude. [Let me lean on him to and from the shower, but didn't peek and pester while I washed... Helped me into pajamas, then into bed, but didn't sneak any greedy gropes... Was worried this might get weird, but he's just being...nice.] "Thanks, Keith."

"You're welcome, cheeky Monkey. THEY might not believe it, but I can be a good boy sometimes."

"Yeah..." yawning with sleepy speculation, Roger wonders aloud "What'cha think they're doing right now?"

Moonie mirthfully muses "Each other. They got bored with the party... wasn't so hot after all.. and now they're gettin' it on in the backseat of a taxi. The driver's popped a raging stiffy from lookin' in the rearview mirror..." he carries on gleefully "...viewin' their rears, like."

"Knock it off!" Roger groans, grinning "That's gonna give me totally twisted dreams."

"Doesn't sound like such a nightmare to ME, but I want you to have only sweet dreams tonight, okay?" Leaning down to bestow an uncharacteristically chaste kiss on Daltrey's brow, Keith switches off the bedside lamp, mildly murmuring "Sleep tight, now. I took the opposite of what I gave you, so I'll be wide awake 'til after noon. If you need anything... I mean ANYTHING... in the night, just give a whistle and I'll come straightaway." 

*****

"Bad boy! What are you doing out of bed?"

Trick of the light (or lack thereof) in close quarters of narrow corridor combines with hallucinatory headswim of mysterious medication to make Monkey momentarily misconstrue that the white-clad figure hurrying toward him is a fetching female, but there's no mistaking Keith's funny falsetto or sunny smile.

"Jeez, Keefy, what the fuck did you GIVE me, anyway? You look like a naughty nurse in a cheesy porno."

"Why, THANK you, Mister Daltrey..." is saucily simpered "...that's EXACTLY what I was going for. It's not every day this ward gets a celebrity patient, and I'm awfully lucky you've...come...under my care, even if I am VERY disappointed you've disobeyed me." Slipping beneath bracing arm, Keith clucks his tongue in tutting reproof as he pulls Roger away from the wall. "Turn my back for a second and I find you roaming the halls all hopped up on horse tranquilizers."

"HORSE pills?!"

"Oh, settle down, sweetie. Just a little nurse joke. It was only a muscle relaxer, but it sure seems those muscles aren't relaxed ENOUGH if you're up-n-about when I TOLD you to stay in bed."

"Had to pee." Roger explains, earning a fresh admonition.

"Well, you should've rung for me to bring you a bedpan. That is my JOB, y'know. If you want to get back to doing YOUR job, you can't be aggravating your injuries like this. C'mon, now, lean on me...that's right, I can hold you. I'm no delicate flower, and I've taken bigger men than YOU to bed before. If you get up again, might have to put you in restraints."

[Oh, hell...heeeeere's the weirdness.] Weakened and woozy, Daltrey doubts his ability to fight off a devilishly determined Keith, should he decide to make good on that threat. [Pete and John would laugh themselves to DEATH if they found me gaffer-taped to the bedposts. They might even take pictures...]

"I'll behave." Roger promises as they make their way back to his bedroom. "You're absolutely right, I should go straight to sleep. You won't hear another peep out of me, I promise." he swears, settling slowly onto rumpled sheets while reaching for the blanket he'd kicked away moments ago.

"No-no, not so fast." Stiffly starched nurse's cap sits slightly askew, so Keith primly straightens it atop curly blonde wig before playfully slapping Roger's hand from the covers. "Can't tuck you in until after I check you out. Gotta make sure you haven't made anything worse."

[That's the wig he says looks like MY hair. He sure is cute in ladies' uniforms. Wonder if he has a policewoman's outfit, too? "My, what a big nightstick you've got there, PC Moon." What the fuck is wrong with me? Can I stop this? Do I want to?]

"Off with those trousers, Mister Daltrey. Don't be shy, I've seen it all already, remember?"

Roger feebly protests "I'm fine, Keith. No need, really."

"Keith's asleep in his own bed, so when you see him again, he won't know anything about this... unless YOU wanna bring it up. I'm Naughty Nurse Kathleen right now, okay?"

[Oh-kaaaay...?] Uncertain in mind but unresisting in body, Roger allows Keith to slide both hands beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. He can feel the exaggerated care being taken to gingerly ease the cloth over his swollen knee, and cannot help but reflect upon how very kindly and generously batty, bratty bandmate behaves when madcap mood strikes. [He's no gentleman, but he certainly can be a very gentle man... especially when he's pretending to be a woman. If I struggle, might take a turn toward terrible... and I can't run. Better play along...]

"Nurse Kathy..." Roger meekly entreats "... how bad does it look?"

Eager eyes roving bared, battered body, Keith calls it how he sees it. "That knee's ballooning up something awful, and you've got some really nasty road-rash, but everything ELSE looks mighty fine to me." Pulling a small bottle of lotion from pocket of tight, white frock, he salaciously suggests "Let's see if a little rubdown can soothe the soreness, shall we?"

Keith sits down on the mattress beside Roger's reclining form and begins to smoothly stroke slippery substance along entire length of lame leg, gliding gently across abrasions from hip to ankle then back upward again, trailing teasing touches. "Oh, dear..." he coos "...now there's even MORE swelling. Well, don't you worry, darling. Draining THIS sort of pressure is my specialty. You're in good hands."

[I sure am... ohhhh...] Ardently applied attentions arousing muted moans, Moonie's moist mouth hovers hotly only inches away from heavenly hand holding slickly shining shaft before he suddenly stops, sitting up while dipping sticky fingers into breast pocket of uniform dress to withdraw flat foil packet.

"Perhaps this treatment should be administered... orally... but you wouldn't begrudge me a bit of protection, would you?" Fluttering lashes in fey affectation, Keith insinuatingly insists "I know what you rock-n-roll types get up to, and a girl in my position can't be too careful."

[He wants to suck me through a rubber? That's different. Well, whatever... at least I won't have to scrub off his crazy crimson lipstick.]

Packaging dismissively discarded like a candy wrapper, Keith pops the condom into his mouth then bends to roll it over engorged erection, working with lips and tongue in tandem. This action strikes Roger as strangely similar to that of blowing a chewing-gum bubble... only in reverse... which is his last semi-coherent thought as reason and resolve are simultaneously swept away by beautiful bliss.

Returning to reality, Roger realizes he's clutching curly hairpiece (to which white-winged cap remains attached by bobby-pins) in one sweaty fist. Broadly beaming with smug satisfaction, smutty smile seeming skewed due to severely smeared scarlet streaks across chin and cheeks, Keith chuckles quietly "Lucky thing that wasn't my REAL hair, or your yanking woulda really hurt."

"You're the toughest battle-axe on this whole, wide ward, Nurse Kathleen." Roger grins back, offering equal parts quip and compliment. "You could've taken it."

"Yeah, prob'ly..." acknowledges Keith, stripping off slick sheath and deftly knotting up its end "...but for now I'm taking THIS. Gonna squirt some sweet cream into Pete's coffee when he wakes up all hungover and I bring him his breakfast in bed."

Roger is scandalously shocked, yet nastily amused, at proposed perverted prank. "You wouldn't!"

"Why not? He deserves it for being so mean to you, don'cha think?"

Shuddering to speculate what sickening substances have possibly wormed wicked way toward tastelessly tainting his own drinks cannot quite dampen Roger's good spirits, and he finds himself laughing as he drops dire declaration. "He'll KILL you if he finds out."

"I'll risk it. Bet he'll never notice, but if he DOES beat me into a bloody pulp, then YOU can be MY nurse."


	2. Imagine A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Loon plays big man for Pete's pleasure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With exception of one tiny "Maxims..." chapter, this is my first real attempt at Keith's thoughts.

"This is all YOUR fault!" Pete's features are a twisted rictus of rage, but his voice trembles on the edge of a wretchedly self-pitying sob. 

"Whatever's wrong, I didn't do it..." Keith contradicts, oozing cheeky charm, cautiously creeping into smoky chamber where bitterly besotted bandleader has been drinking alone "...unless I was SUPPOSED to do it, in which case I did it yesterday."

"You do it EVERY day, shameless slut! Little love-leech absorbs all attention, sucking up and sucking off so there's nothing left for ME!" Pete morosely mopes, more miserable than mad, swigging straight from green glass bottle of Remy Martin clutched in one white-knuckled fist before bitterly biting brandy-breath blows woeful, wounded words. "He won't even KISS me anymore, but back in the days before YOU came along, we did A LOT together. He never USED to say 'No', but now that's ALL he ever says..." is sorrowfully sighed "...since you seduced him away from me."

Attempting appeasement, Keith quietly beseeches "Please, Pete, it's not like that. I didn't even know you still wanted him, and HE might not know it, either."

"Are you dense as well as daft?" emerges in snarled sneer. "I just SAID he turned me down, didn't I? Of course he knows, he just doesn't CARE. He says he still loves me, but he won't ever prove it."

"That's not fair. NOBODY's more loving than Our Oxy, and He proves it all the time. Puts up with us, even though you're so mean and Roger's so dull and I'm... well, ME. Tellya what..." Keith abruptly alights in insidiuos inspiration "How about AYE pretend to be John for a little while and we can do... whatever you wish he would?"

Pete laughs at the very idea, bleary blues blasting Keith up and down in scathing sweep of utter disdain. "Not a CHANCE, Little Loon. I may be drunk, but I'm not deaf, dumb and blind enough to be..." he leers lewdly "...taken by such a devil's bargain. That's WAY too hard a sell."

"Oh, yeah?" is cheerfully challenged, cheesy Cheshire grin gleaming gleefully "Wanna bet?" With flippant flick of switch, Keith snaps off overhead incandescence, plunging the bedroom into absolute blackness, and his next words are an astonishingly apt approximation of John's voice.

"Come over here and kiss me, beautiful Birdman. I love you, and can't wait to prove it."

[!!!] Pete nearly drops the bottle, sudden squeal of springs reverberating as he sits down heavily on the bed behind his weakened knees, exclaiming "Holy SHIT, Keefy! How long have you been able to do that?"

Returning to his own teasing tones, Moonie merrily mentions "I can do YOU, too. Wanna hear?"

"Not now," Pete chuckles. "My narcissism has SOME limits, you know." He takes a deep drink, downing sweetly searing spirits before burning question comes up. "Have you ever... done me... for John?"

"Yeah..." Keith admits, amused, amending "... but only while making fun, never while making love." Coming carefully closer, yet remaining deliberately out of reach [Dunno if this'll turn him on or piss him off], he once more affects Ox's grave intonation. "It's ME you really wish would do you, isn't it? I want to... and I WILL, if you'll let me... but we gotta do it in the dark, coz those gorgeous eyes of yours are just too intimidating."

Unsure exactly how far he'll permit this game to go, Pete nonetheless decides to play along. [If he can kiss like John, I might be inclined to allow... more. Wonder how much he knows about our ancient history?] "YOU come over HERE. I'd like to lie down with you... John. Remember the last time we were in bed together?"

[No, but I bet...] "We were just kids, then, and I had no idea what I was doing. You did, though. You always do, and you're prob'ly even better now."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, big boy." [Let's throw him a curveball...] "Wouldn't you rather be with Keith than here with me?"

"Not tonight. Want to show you how much I've missed..." [what, exactly?] "...everything we used to do together."

[He doesn't know...] "We never did... everything. I always wanted to, but was too afraid to ask."

"So did I, but was too afraid of hurting you."

"I'm well anesthetized right now..." Fumbling in the darkness, finally finding bedside table, Pete sets down the bottle upon it then reaches out both hands toward the figure he can hear slowly shuffling nearer, wondering what body part his questing fingertips will touch first "... and, anyway, I enjoy a little pain from time to time."

"Are you a glutton for punishment, Pete?" Encountering outstretched arms, Keith finds himself fiercely folded within eager embrace and dragged down onto the mattress as Pete greedily gasps against his throat.

"Yes, John. You know I am. I deserve to be punished for throwing myself at you like this." Well aware that he could never speak with such naked need if it were really The Ox's body and brain in his bed, Pete passionately dares desperate declaration. "It's easy to love you... everybody does... but it's veryveryveryVERY hard holding back how badly I want you. Envy eats me up whenever I see you with Keith, because HE gets all of you but I never will."

"Mister Moon only gets it all coz he begs me. You have too much dignity... and too much shame." Keith knows this to be true, but isn't sure if Pete does. "Just for tonight, don't hold back and don't be embarrassed, okay? Tell me everything you want, and we'll make it happen."

[This is crazy... HE'S crazy... but I need it. Don't even care if John finds out. It's only a game, after all.] Pete has been nuzzling Keith's neck, but now turns up longing lips to demand in a manner he would find too daunting to try on the man he really wants. "Take my clothes off, John. Strip me bare and kiss me... kiss me everywhere."

Delighted to oblige, Keith reminds himself as he meets Pete's mouth with his own that he's supposed to be JOHN right now, which means stifling the effusively effervescent excitement he, himself, tends to bring when locking lips and tangling tongues. [Johnny doesn't moan-n-groan. Even if I sure wanna sound off, better keep quiet.] Uttering only softest of sighs, he unbuttons Pete's shirt with one hand while unfastening his trousers with the other.

[!!! That's exactly how I remember it being with John... right down to the slight hesitance between unzipping my pants and reaching inside them. Even the featherlight stroke he's doing now... ohhh... Keith seemed to instinctively KNOW how much pressure I like, the very first time he touched me, but I always had to TELL John...] "Squeeze me harder... yes, oh, YES, John, just like that..." Keith has opened up the garments out of which Pete now wriggles, shrugging and kicking free from constraining cloth while wantonly writhing within mind-melting mesh of glorious grip and fervent fantasy. "I love you, John!" he cries, vocal ejaculation heralding bodily one.

Pulsating pumps spurting heated slickness across Keith's knuckles makes his mind race as he slows his hand. [Will he be done now, or does he want more?] "I love you, too, Pete." Keith means this from his own heart yet speaks it in John's voice as he pulls Pete's quaking form close to him. "Was I alright? Did I take you to the height of ecstasy?"

[He's still playing!] "You've never taken me, John, but I've been dying to know what it would be like if you did." Pete slips his hand downward to seek stiffness straining slacks. [John's a LOT bigger, which somewhat scares me, but this I can work with...] 

Keith doesn't know the answer to this, and isn't sure Pete will provide it, but sees no harm in trying. "Has ANY man ever taken you before?"

"No man I love." Pete tells the truth, but won't share the WHOLE truth. "I want you to take me now." Rolling over on his side, he arches bare backside to grind against rampant erection.

[Ooh...yeah... He's never let ME do this, but he wants it from John, huh?] Slipping slippery fingertip in prurient probe provokes aggrieved hiss.

"Ow, STOP that! Your nails are sharp. I don't need any fingering foreplay, just FUCK me, already!"

Rapidly raking down his zipper, Keith's newly naked cock presses between Pete's cheeks as both hands heatedly grip narrow hips. It's a struggle, staying in character, to mildly murmur while nudging for alignment "Might hurt with no slick stuff."

[WANT it to hurt. Even with emollient, John might tear me up. Don't care if Keith does.] "Give it to me, John." Pete pleads "Take your pleasure in me."

Keith does not need to be told twice. Finding sought spot and driving deep into taut tightness, he knows he won't last but doubts Pete much cares at this point. Recollecting John's horny huff, he now emulates it as he thrusts. "So good... so sweet... so sexy... loveyouloveyouLOVEYOU!"

[He's coming! Am I really good, or was he just really excited? Who cares?] Pulling himself away then turning around to face the face he can't quite see in the dark but kisses with earnest gratitude expressed toward the real man who has just made his dream come true, Pete whispers "I love you, Mister Moon. Thank you for taking me on an amazing journey."


End file.
